


Horror Hunger

by PawPunk



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Gen, Self-Hatred, does this count as vore?, hints of a tragic backstory, im counting it as vore, non-permanant death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PawPunk/pseuds/PawPunk
Summary: I made a meme and captioned it "If this gets 69 likes I'll write a Joe x Cleo vore fic". And then it got WELL over 69 likes. So here you go. If this gets 69 kudos you get NOTHING
Relationships: hints of jleo but u could read it as platonic
Comments: 16
Kudos: 42





	Horror Hunger

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: Cleo eats Joe's severed head and he finds out. My beta reader said it was "immersive" so make of that what you will.

Cleo shot off a few more rockets, propelling herself at eye-watering speeds towards her base. The ocean rushed beneath her in a glittery sheet, giving little indication of the distance to her base. Cleo forced herself to fly lower, scanning for the zoo entrance in the distance. Sure, it was dangerous, but she was way too hungry to care about anything except getting home.

Yes, she had just been at a picnic, sponsored by Scar to celebrate his victory, and yes, she had eaten far too much cake. But Cleo wasn’t exactly the type of person who could fill up on cake. Or any normal human food. Because she wasn’t a human. Cleo was a zombie, and zombies eat people.

That sounded really bad, Cleo realized, as she landed in front of her storage room. Even if it was what she needed to stave off the rot, to repair the cuts and scratches she couldn’t heal anymore and keep moving, it was… bad. But it wasn’t like she was hunting down her friends for food. They had done that for her, of their own free will, for fun. And what they knew didn’t hurt them. So what if not all of the player heads turned in to her during the head games ended up as armor stands?

Cleo darted into her head storage room and scanned the wall. Why did so many hermits have to have long hair? It was such a pain to shave it off or pull it out, and every moment spent preparing her meal was a moment spent looking at the lifeless eyes of one of her friends. And it wasn’t like she could just not eat the scalp- she always felt bad wasting any bit of food, knowing it was only a matter of time until the spoils of the head game ran out and she’d need some other excuse to collect heads. Cleo’s stomach growled, her eyes darting around to the various heads tacked to the stone wall. She hadn’t eaten real food since last night, and her body was not about to let her forget about it.

Ah well, Cleo thought. She could forgo her usual care this one time. She hadn’t used Joe’s head for much of anything yet, and she still had a good few left. Holding the head upside down and facing away from her so she couldn’t see the dead, empty eyes, and took a bite out of the neck.

Her supernaturally sharp teeth and strong jaw ripped through the cool, rubbery flesh of Joe’s neck stump with ease. A long, thin strip of skin tore off and she hardly noticed it go down. Saliva and stagnant blood filled her mouth as she bit through the vertebrae, barely pausing to crush the small bones before swallowing them. She was just _so hungry_.

Shutting her eyes, Cleo tore off the jaw with her teeth, an unintentional guttural growl rising up in her throat. The taste of iron filled her mouth, and stubble scratched her lips. It was just food, she reminded herself. The real Joe was probably out working on his berry fields, or getting into trouble with one of their other friends. The thought made Cleo grin, a dribble of red drool escaping her mouth. She loved that idiot. He may be weird as hell, but he was funny as hell too. And just… nice. So nice he could make a rock want to be his friend. Probably too nice for his own good if his best friend was a flesh eating monster, but Cleo wasn’t complaining.

She swallowed hard. Her eyes had drifted open the tiniest bit. Joe’s lifeless eyes were staring up at the ceiling, half his face torn off. His rough cheek was hanging in ragged strips, dripping blood that had soured to a dark purple color. She shut her eyes so tight they hurt. It was just food, she reminded herself. The real Joe was fine. She checked the tab list just in case. He was there, he was fine. She wasn’t hurting him-

Too caught up in her own thoughts, Cleo didn’t hear the footsteps behind her. She absentmindedly bit the cheek off the skull in her hands, swallowing it with a wet tearing sound. It was then when she someone gagging. When she heard _Joe_ gagging.

“Cleo?” he squeaked. She threw the head down into the gap between two chests. It didn’t make much of a difference- he had already seen the blood, heard her biting off chunks of human flesh- but maybe he would’t realize she had been eating _his_ head.

“Hi,” she said. She wiped her mouth with her arm. A long, rusty smear coated her deathly pale skin. Joe’s eyes followed the motion, his skin rapidly losing color and his jaw slack. “It’s, um. It was from the head games.” Excellent fucking move, she told herself. That’s sure to make him feel more comfortable. Go on, tell him you tricked everyone, tell him you made them hurt their friends so you could eat their brains!

“Howdy,“ he said, almost dazed. “Howdy, Cleo-“ Then he half fainted, barely catching himself on the wall. He was paler than Cleo now, his skin stark grey against his dark brown hair. He shook, tears springing to his eyes, his chest heaving. Cleo almost felt like she was in his place, her dead heart unnecessarily pounding as her mind spun.

“Are you okay?” Cleo rushed to his side, but Joe staggered to his feet and backed away, his eyes wide with fear. He wordlessly shook his head.

“I thought you were-“ Whatever he thought she was, he didn’t say. Joe fixed his legs solidly under him and ran.

“Wait!” Cleo sprinted after him. Joe stumbled, picking himself up without slowing down. “I can explain!” Cleo yelled ineffectively, almost running into a door as Joe slammed it in her face. He dove for her nether portal, turning to face her as he warped out of the plane of existance. Joe’s eyes were almost all white, tears streaming down his face and fogging up his glasses. And then he was gone.

Cleo took a deep breath. It brought no relief. She sobbed dryly. Her body couldn’t produce tears. It was okay, she tried to tell herself. Joe was her best friend. He was thoughtful, he didn’t judge people. He would be ready to talk to her once the horror had worn off.

If it ever did. Cleo sat down on the ground. The lifeless armor stands around her seemed to taunt her, their bloodless faces and vacant eyes mirroring her own. She had no soul, no life running through her veins like the other hermits. She only prayed Joe wouldn’t tell anyone, would let her keep her other friends even if he couldn’t stomach to look at her after what she did. It wasn’t the end of the world, just her longest, closest friendship. If she couldn’t trust Joe not to tell, who could she trust?

Probably no one, she realized. Cleo stood up so fast her head spun. She needed to ask Doc for an infinity portal out of there, before he found out. Before the pitchforks and torches. Before she had to face her ex-friends’ hatred again.


End file.
